Detention
by Cello Case
Summary: SLASH. After purposefully getting detention, Ron needs to muster up the courage to move on his fantasies.


ronsnap Whee! Ron and Snape! Something I've always wanted to see but I like only have once. ONCE! Think about it, they'ce be GREAT! Anyway, this is slash, man to man, can't deal, skeedaddle. Original story, but not original character, so no suing, suing is not fun. Read on. 

The room was so still it seemed as though the mere scraping   
of a quill against the paper was echoing. Ron Weasley stole a glance   
at the man supervising his detention, Severus Snape. Snape glared   
down his thin nose at the boy before turning back to grading the   
day's essays.   
  
Ron sighed mentally. //I suppose it's now or never...// He   
mustered up all his courage, his heart fluttering like a bird in a cage,   
and said, "Um, Professor Snape, I've forgotten how to to properly   
measure the acid leaves. Could you, er, maybe come over here   
and...show me?"   
  
Snape sighed exhasperatedly and arose from his desk, the   
chair scraping across the floor. He strode over to Ron's table,   
muttering, "Honestly, fool boy, it's not that damn hard..." 

He leaned over the boy's shoulder to chopped the acid leaves   
into fine, even strips. Ron could smell the musky scent that wafted   
from his silken black hair. It sent small shivers up his spine. He   
relished that smell best he could without letting on, not paying   
attention to a word Snape was saying. 

He stood up, pretending that it was so he could give Snape   
more room to work. He glanced at the professor from the corner of   
his eye, his lean figure somewhat visible through his robes as he   
leaned over to demonstrate how to stack the delicate strips on the   
scale making Ron's crotch spring to attention. How could something   
so beautiful be a Slytherin Snape looked at him sharply.   
"Understand now?" he spat. 

Ron stood up straight, and inhaled deeply. //Now or never   
now or never now or never,// he chanted in his mind like a never   
ending mantra. "Actually, Professor Snape, I didn't listen to a word   
you just said," he said, trying to keep his voice even. 

Snape looked livid. He straighted right in front of Ron, not an   
inch shorter nor taller than the teenager, and yelled, "How the hell are you   
going to learn if you never listen?! God, are you as useless as you   
act?! Do you know how to do anything right, boy?!!"   
  
"Yes," Ron said firmly, his courage forming higher, his blood   
pounding throughout his body surging him onward. 

"What, then?!" 

"This." And as soon as the word had traveled out of his mouth   
into Snape's ears, before he could back out, he grabbed Snape's   
shoulders and nearly bruised his lips with a fiery kiss. 

Snape couldn't believe what was happening. This Gryffandor   
student, who had almost daily claimed to loath him so, was now   
latched onto him like a boy in love. 

And maybe he was. 

Only one way to find out, Snape resolved. He let himself   
loosened and leaned into the kiss, parting his lips slightly, waiting to   
see if Weasley was doing this on a dare or - the impossible - if thin   
line between loathing and adoration had been crossed. 

Ron had awaited the rejection, the venomous words that   
would likely lead him to a suicide contemplation that night. He knew   
he could be rash like that. From the age of fifteen, Ron had been   
contemplating ways to let his teacher know...should he simply talk   
to him after a class? Leave love notes in his office? Throw him on his   
desk and fuck him senseless? A few weeks ago he had decided this,   
staging a detention and then making first move, would be best; he   
could always blame it on a bet. But feeling Snape letting himself be   
kissed was more than he could have dared want. He gentled the   
kiss, allowing his tongue to softly glide into the waiting mouth,   
savoring the moment he had wanted for years. 

Snape very suprised by this boldness. It was becoming   
increasingly obvious that Weasley was doing this on his own terms,   
no dare involved. He had to admit to himself that the boy was a very   
good kisser. He was tender and sweet to the taste, backing away   
from his initial brute force and acting like a timid virgin succuming   
to a far-off fantasy that he only believed came true in faery tales. 

Ron, though enjoying this moment, was dying to know what   
Snape's reaction was to all this. He slowly pulled away, lingering on   
his lips, and opened his eyes. 

Snape's eyes fluttered open, his lips still just barely parted.   
He looked at Ron, drew back his hand, and slapped him hard across   
the face. 

Ron clutched at his cheek, feeling hot tears already forming in   
his eyes. Not at the pain flooding through his face, but the pain   
flooding through his heart. He KNEW this was a horrible idea, he   
KNEW it. He looked up with watery eyes and a shattered heart at the   
man he had adored, wishing he could die right there. 

"That," Snape hissed, "was for not paying attention to what I   
was instructing." 

He grabbed Ron by the arms and pulled him up to stand at   
his full height. He saw the pain in those reddening eyes shine like   
blood on a fresh wound. "And this," he whispered, stroking Ron's   
unviolated cheek with the back of his innocent hand, "is for opening   
my eyes." 

He just barely let his lips graze Ron's delicate mouth, closing his eyes and   
wrapping his suprisingly lithe arms around his waist. 


End file.
